One Day in Auburn
by sonorahugagi
Summary: George Milton, growing up in Auburn, California, didn't understand what would happen when his mama told him that he had to be nice to Lennie Small from nearby. A story about the early friendship and the creation of the dream between George and Lennie.


_Written for English class, just like a majority of stories for Of Mice and Men... it was supposed to be less than a page but it went a lot farther than that lol. It's a prequel to Of Mice and Men, written during the time period when George and Lennie were friends and growing up in Auburn, California. Since next to nothing is known about George's childhood, and only Aunt Clara for Lennie, I took liberty with George and ignored most of the people of their past._

_This story could be a bit difficult to read, because their speech is written in the accents they would have grown up with. Hope you don't have much trouble..._

_**Signed, first story in awhile!, sonorahugagi**_

**OF MICE AND MEN PREQUEL:**

**One Day in Auburn**

* * *

When his mama said he had to be nice to Lennie, George never thought that he'd see him as much as he did. He didn't even wanna be friends with him – he was always getting them both into a whole lotta trouble, and it was the miracle that George could spin yarns that they were able to walk in the daylight.

Lennie – the poor guy – must've never had anyone be nice to him before George came over, asking to play. Why else was he suddenly stickin' to him like glue, showin' up in places where he shouldn't be and tellin' George he just wanted to play again? It wasn't easy for an 11-year-old off a farm with no brothers or sisters suddenly having a constant presence in his life. He tried explaining it to Mama, but she only said, "You jus' be nice, George – Lennie ain't all there in the head, it ain't his fault. He jus' wants a friend to play with, that's all. No one's nice to him like you, George, and you're a good boy to show 'im some fun."

It got easier to have Lennie around when George discovered that he'd do pretty much whatever he wanted him to do. He was lousy in games – he fumbled easy balls, ran in the wrong direction and did things to get them both kicked out – but he was a monster of a kid, and had a strong arm when George could get him to listen and follow instructions. Plus, he protected George from the older kids; George had always been small and sometimes got picked on, but the last guy that said anything mean got his face smashed in, an' it kept most of the big boys away then. His strength was apparent when he could lift George, easily, up to a really tall branch to get some apples down or could catch things with his bare hands.

But… George learned the hard way that having control of another person's life could prove to be too much to handle. Lennie would do whatever he told him to – even if it meant his life.

* * *

Lennie trailed out the back door only a foot or so behind George, a large goofy grin plastered across his face. George never saw a kid grin so much just 'cause another person was with them.

"What we doin' today, George?"

"Nothin', Lennie. Nothin' special." George answered gruffly. He was acutely aware of Lennie's Aunt Clara staring down their backs as they made their way down the street. That old lady was nice, but she could be a real scare when she wanted to be. He didn't need her knowing about their plans.

"We gonna play with those kids again, like we did yesterday?"

George grit his teeth. His didn't want to remember yesterday. "No… those kids don't wan' us playin' anymore. You kicked their ball into the tree. Don't you remember?"

"Oh…" Lennie's face fell into hard thought. "Oh, yeah. Sure I 'member, George."

Lennie never remembered anything.

It was a few minutes after George had fallen into a moody silence, his bare feet scuffing the dirt road, when Lennie repeated his question. "So what we doin' today, George?"

A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed old Aunt Clara was no longer watching. With a sly grin, he said, "We're gonna play in the creek woods, Lennie. Prob'ly play hide'n'seek."

A stormy expression crossed Lennie's features. "But… but we ain't allowed to play in there, George. Aunt Clara says 't's a bad place."

"You always listen to everythin' you're told, Lennie?" George shot back. "It's jus' hide'n'seek. You like hide'n'seek, don'tcha?"

George knew Lennie loved hide'n'seek, for whatever reason. Lennie was terrible at it – he never hid any place good enough to hide his size and giggled like crazy whenever George went by "looking" for him – but he was sure good at finding George. The only reason he still played that game was 'cause Lennie loved it so much. And it was probably the only way he'd convince him to go into the woods.

It was true – the woods _were_ forbidden – but George just wanted to see inside. Just once. They were only woods, they couldn't be that bad!

Lennie frowned in deep thought. His face always made a funny, strained expression when he thought too hard.

"Jus' hide'n'seek?" He repeated.

"Jus' hide'n'seek." George promised, grabbing his arm and hauling him off the path.

Unfortunately, Lennie was practically on top of George the whole way into the woods, his grip too tight on George's small upper arm.

"Ow!" He said angrily, jerking his arm a little. "That hurts, Lennie. Le'ggo."

Lennie didn't seem to hear. He did that, sometimes, but it didn't make George's arm feel any better. "I'ma scared, George." He whined. "Let's go back an' play with the kids like we did yesterday."

He was scared too, but he wouldn't say that to Lennie. His temper rising, George tried to squirm his way out of Lennie's grip. "I already tol' ya, they don't want us to play no more 'cause you mess ever'thing up!" He snapped angrily. "Why don't you remember nothing, huh? You was there but you don't remember!"

Lennie stopped walking, and with his grip on George and his size, George was forced to stop too. His head bowed and in a small voice he said, "You mad at me George?"

Slowly George stopped struggling, staring at the depressed expression on Lennie's face. It was as if someone had just killed his puppy. The bad feeling of guilt wormed its way through George's gut. "Naw… naw, I ain't mad at you Lennie." He mumbled, looking at the ground. "You jus' hurtin' my arm, that's all."

Lennie instantly released his grip, rubbing two large hands together. "Oh, oh, oh I'm sorry, George, I'm sorry, don' be mad anymore." Tears welled in his eyes, and it only made George feel worse. "I didn't hurt ya none, did I? Please don't be mad at me, George!"

"I ain't mad, Lennie, Jesus!" George turned away, rubbing feeling back into his lower arm. "Why you gotta go actin' like that?"

Lennie stilled, confusion spreading across his face. "Like what, George?"

George sighed. He couldn't explain his feelings – he was only 11, after all. "Nothin', Lennie. C'mon, we gotta go in deeper to find a good hiding spot."

Lennie followed as silent as a mouse after that, not speaking a word except an occasional whimpering sound at a strange noise in the shadows. The silence was worse than Lennie hanging over him and breathing like a frightened rabbit.

"H-Here." George fought to keep his voice even. "Let's stop here. Now, I'm gonna count to 10 and you're gonna hide, kay?"

Lennie's hands began to fret, rolling around and around each other. "Aw, George," he began, but in George fear his temper returned.

"What are ya, a scaredy cat?" George snapped, cringing a little at Lennie's hurt expression. "It's jus' woods, it ain't nothin' to be afraid of! Now you go hide an' you go hide some place good, ya hear?"

With a deterred look Lennie nodded, turned, and barreled off in another direction. George cupped his hands over his eyes. If Lennie didn't be more quiet, he was gonna hear his trail all the way to his hiding spot. "One… Two… Three…"

Suddenly, all the crashing noises stopped. George hesitated, the unformed word 'four' dying on his lips. Then, from somewhere in the distance, came a blood-curdling scream. It was high-pitched, but it was unmistakable – it was Lennie.

"LENNIE!" George screamed, bolting off in the direction of the noise.

Just for a minute, the scream sounded like it was comin' in from all directions. George was so afraid he'd gone the wrong way, the woods suddenly closing in on all sides and wanting to drag him into the darkness. He exploded into a little clearing with the big creek running through it – and Lennie lay in the water, floundering around.

Within seconds George had leapt into the water, shirt and all, and waded to the spot where Lennie had found a grip on a log. "Lennie, Lennie!" He yelled, finding it difficult to keep his footing. The water was rough but only so deep, and he was a short kid, but he could still touch bottom. All Lennie had to do was stand. "Lennie, you big git, jus' _stand up!_"

Somehow George's voice got through over his screaming and thrashing, and Lennie, blubbering and crying like a baby, straightened up. He remained hunched over, clinging to the log, while George scrambled to sit on it.

"GOD DAMN YOU LENNIE!" The 11-year-old howled, not caring about how his mother would beat him for those words. Tears fell out of his own eyes and he began punching the rotting wood beneath him. Lennie looked up, possibly more frightened at George's yelling than at nearly drowning moments before. "You big, s-stupid idiot! Why ya gotta go and scare me like that, huh?! You tryin' ta make me upset? You jus' tryin' to be mean, ain't cha? You stupid GIT!"

Startled like a deer in headlights, Lennie said nothing. Silent tears spilled down his face. A big splinter worked its way into George's knuckle and he howled again, cradling it close to his body.

"G-George – George, I ain't tryin' to be mean, George." Lennie made a grab from George's hands, but he pulled back, still nursing the splintered hand against his chest. "I'm sorry! George, I done a bad thing. Didn't I, George? I'm sorry!"

"Shaddup!" George snapped. He wiped away his tears, glaring at the other boy's red face. "You jus' shut up. I don't wanna hear it."

Lennie's face strained again, scrunched into a silly expression as he stuttered out words. "I – I got, I got dis-dis-dis… I saw a rabbit, George." As if almost drowning had been completely forgotten, a small sparkle came into Lennie's eyes. "An' he was so purty, he was so purty… I jus' wanted ta pet him George, but he ran away, and I chased after 'im, an' then I fell and – and – I jus' wanted to pet the rabbit, George!"

George had noticed, after Lennie had hung around awhile, that Lennie had a bad habit for petting soft things. Sometimes when he'd come over to get Lennie an' play, or have Sunday dinner, Lennie would be petting a little mouse or a piece of velvet that Aunt Clara had given him. But chasing after a rabbit into a creek and nearly drowning?

"Why you go and almos' drown for, Lennie?" George said, his anger dying down a bit. "Why you wanna pet that damn rabbit so much, huh? Ya coulda drowned!"

"You – tol' me ta hide, George. I was tryin' ta hide real good, and I saw the rabbit…" Lennie's face fell, and his hands crept forward to grip George's tightly. He winced, feeling the sliver dig in deeper. "George, I done bad. I knowed it. If you don' wanna be my friend anymore…"

George watched Lennie's face, feeling guilt wash over him again. It wasn't his fault… Lennie just didn't know. "Naw, Lennie… it was an accident. Ya didn' mean to… ya just scared me, is all."

The two sat in silence, Lennie standing half out of the water and George resting on the log, both lost in their own world of thought and the occasional sniffle from Lennie.

"So… you ain't mad, George? I done a bad thing." Lennie finally said, looking up with hopeful eyes.

George sighed. "No, Lennie… I ain't mad. I was jus' scared. I – I didn't want ya to drown. I know you ain't tryin' to be mean… it was me bein' mean. If I hadn't brought us out here, none'a'this woulda happened."

Lennie stared at their hands, then out into the woods.

"George?"

"Yeah, Lennie?" He answered a bit gruffly.

"I – I wanna stay with you forever, George. Jus' you an' me… best friends. Don't need no mean kids or people yellin' at us 'cause we done bad things." Lennie nodded eagerly, his face lighting up. "Don' you wanna be best friends, George?"

A shadow fell over his own face, but George still smiled. "Yeah, Lennie… let's be friends. You an' me, livin' and workin' together, like – " A brilliant idea struck him. "Like the cowboys, in 'em picture shows."

Lennie perked up a bit. "Cowboys?"

"Yeah, yeah… them cowboys live off th' land, got lots and lots of land to live offa – big fat ol' acres, lots of farm room for vegetables and corn and wheat…" Lennie was getting lost in his words, a dreamy look coming over his face. "And plenty of animals, too – cows, chickens, pigs – they can have whatever they want and no one to tell 'um not to, neither. Cowboys c'n do whatever they want, whenever they want."

"An' rabbits." Lennie interrupted.

George gave him a funny look. "Huh?"

"I wanna have rabbits, George – lots an' lots of rabbits."

After a disgruntled moment he gave in. "Yeah… sure Lennie, lots of rabbits." He said gruffly, fiddling with the splinter in his hand. It hurt a lot, but a few good tugs got it out. "C'mon, Lennie, you gotta get outa the water. We gotta dry off 'fore we get home."

Lennie nodded. "'Kay, George." A happy grin split his face and he waded out. George just walked the log to the end and hopped off.

As they walked back, Lennie asked quietly, "George?"

"What?"

"We really gonna live like cowboys?"

"Mhm. Sure we is – we jus' gotta work and earn our land. Startin' now." George bobbed his head, lost in the childhood fantasies of shooting cowboys and a huge farm, all to him and Lennie.

When his mama told him he had to be nice to Lennie, George would have never imagined how things turned out all that long way down the road. But despite the terrible things that happened, he was happy that he said yes to Lennie that day... even if their dreams never came true.


End file.
